We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. She took up the poker and stirred the fire vigorously. You are different, Lucia, undamaged even after what you have been through, still pure of heart. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise.
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